Friday the 13th, and Mercury still in retrograde. Jamie Stelter, meteorologist for NY1 described the weather as "Sticky and gross." There had been a rape attempt in Fort Tryon Park (a little north of where I ride). Perfect.
First, I shortened the belt on a new, roomier fanny pack (What - Do they make these belts for giants?!)
First, I shortened the belt on a new, roomier fanny pack (What - Do they make these belts for giants?!)
Packed my Little Black Raincoat just in case
We were up and out of the house by 8:30am.
No sooner did I unfold Lucille, than it began to rain. On went the raincoat (neck and armholes very couture). Riverside Drive was a fuming parking lot with steam coming off the car tops; but as a cyclist I could sense the rain already cleansing the air. And we had the bike path all to ourselves.
As the rain came down harder, two stranded commuters took refuge in a piece of art along the River. I joined them to sweep my bangs back into my helmet (curls can be a hazard in weather like this), and spoke to the cyclist. He was confident it would soon pass.
No sooner did I unfold Lucille, than it began to rain. On went the raincoat (neck and armholes very couture). Riverside Drive was a fuming parking lot with steam coming off the car tops; but as a cyclist I could sense the rain already cleansing the air. And we had the bike path all to ourselves.
As the rain came down harder, two stranded commuters took refuge in a piece of art along the River. I joined them to sweep my bangs back into my helmet (curls can be a hazard in weather like this), and spoke to the cyclist. He was confident it would soon pass.
Meanwhile, Lucille and I, feeling increasingly free of constraints, began to explore heretofore forbidden pedestrian piers as though they had been built just for us. What a great sense of freedom!
The first promenade, when we reached it, was completely deserted, except for this determined entrepreneur.
The first promenade, when we reached it, was completely deserted, except for this determined entrepreneur.
But as we continued to ride, there was virtually no one.
My Inner New Yorker said to get the hell out: for a women alone, a deserted park can be a dangerous place. My Inner Meteorologist said relax; perverts don't go out in weather like this - what, do you think they're crazy?! (The rain was heavier than this; this photo was taken on the way back because the rain was too intense to bring out the phone. I'm not making up that color though) .
We rode to the end of the promenade, the rain driving into my eyes by then, descended to the River and began looking for a link to the next promenade - which appeared just as it should have (how did I miss this?), and into the Park we went.
By now, the rain was really coming down in sheets, rolling down the face, tasting like fresh spring water, the air pungent and cool with wet earth and leaves. My raincoat protected my core (more or less); everything else was drenched. But once you're wet, you can't get any wetter. I chanced taking the phone out for this one photo. This is at the end by the tennis courts. As you can see, it was pretty fierce.
We rode to the end of the promenade, the rain driving into my eyes by then, descended to the River and began looking for a link to the next promenade - which appeared just as it should have (how did I miss this?), and into the Park we went.
By now, the rain was really coming down in sheets, rolling down the face, tasting like fresh spring water, the air pungent and cool with wet earth and leaves. My raincoat protected my core (more or less); everything else was drenched. But once you're wet, you can't get any wetter. I chanced taking the phone out for this one photo. This is at the end by the tennis courts. As you can see, it was pretty fierce.
The rain especially seemed to suit Lucille, who's derailer has been acting up a bit. Today, it was downshifting nicely. Which brings me to a little rant on bike technology (about which I know very little). A biking acquaintance of mine recently said to me, matter-of-factly, "If you own a bike, you will be fixing a bike." That makes sense if I didn't already fix so much else in my life - staining and polishing my own floors, cutting and coloring my own hair, the list is endless in this DYI era. No, when it comes to Lucille I have the "take out" approach. One of the great reasons to live in the City is the convenience. I have a kitchen too, but take-out is cheap around the corner - and how would I rather spend my time? If I get a flat tire and I'm anywhere in the 5 boroughs, Lucille will go into the trunk of a taxi, and off we'll go. I am not proud that I don't know how to change a flat; one day I'm sure I will learn that too. I'm just glad that for now, it doesn't matter.
Sensing encroaching domestic obligations, we turned reluctantly for home and as we made it down to Chelsea, took the opportunity to disregard EVERY SINGLE BAN ON BICYCLES ON THE PIERS!
like this.
Sensing encroaching domestic obligations, we turned reluctantly for home and as we made it down to Chelsea, took the opportunity to disregard EVERY SINGLE BAN ON BICYCLES ON THE PIERS!
like this.
And these
The views were dramatic and grand - even in fog.
And there was lots and lots of art, normally off limits to cyclists.
Here's something I'd only seen from the back on the bike path.
Had no idea there was a complete little home inside: stainless steel armchair, corrugated metal bed, kitchen and bathroom and little dinette. Tried to capture some of it through the glass - but it was wet out there!
Home at last. Gave Lucille a good wipe down, and gave myself one as well. The light spots? That's what remained dry.
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